


With Confidence

by Anonymous



Category: Fake News RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Spouse, Community: fakenews_fanfic, M/M, Office Sex, Orgasm Delay/Denial
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-19
Updated: 2016-09-19
Packaged: 2018-08-10 13:18:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,102
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7846594
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Can we talk about this?" </p><p>"Talk about what?" Jon asked.</p><p>Stephen inhaled. "The thing where we fuck on a regular basis and you act like it doesn't happen."</p>
            </blockquote>





	With Confidence

**Author's Note:**

> (The summary was a prompt that was originally posted on LiveJournal. This fic is a fill for said prompt.)
> 
> Takes place around 1999/2000.

"Can we talk about this?"

"Talk about what?" Jon asked. 

Stephen inhaled. "The thing where we fuck on a regular basis and you act like it doesn't happen."

Jon froze. He checked his posture and leaned back in his seat.

"Stephen, I'm sorry if you think I'm 'acting' like we don't, ah, have sex, but it isn't exactly..." He shrugged and took a second to swallow the knot in his throat. "It's not something I'd talk about at work."

 _It's not something you'd talk about ever_ , Stephen thought.

"I would," Stephen said instead. He tilted his head nonchalantly and leaned on Jon's office door, closing it with his weight.

"You wouldn't tell-"

"Ed. Steve. Sam, definitely Sam," he said, approaching him with lazy steps. "She's a riot." 

Jon ran his hands through his hair and sighed. "So what do you wanna do?" he asked, more tired than concerned.

It was a Thursday. The week had passed so quickly that Jon almost forgot he'd sent half the staff away to film on location. The other half were downstairs, solving the kinks the mechanics of their bit that night brought forth. As a result, the entire second floor, save the two of them cooped up in Jon's office, was empty.

Stephen watched his face as the idea clicked.

_The floor's empty, idiot._

"I, uh... oh.  _Oh._ "

Stephen grinned. He leaned over the desk so their faces were inches apart and looked at Jon with intent. "Can I..." he whispered, gaze flitting down to Jon's lips. Jon nodded, eyebrows raised.

 _This_ was different. "Please. I mean yes. Absolutely yes." He watched Stephen with wide eyes as the other man took advantage of the tie that normally wasn't there. He pulled on it to urge Jon out of his seat, and he followed to the other side of the desk through small, calculating steps. He watched Stephen's face the entire time, looked for some flux in his act, but he never wavered. Stephen, Jon found through their months of messing around, never did. 

Stephen met him by trailing kisses along his neck. He paused twice to bite down on the skin just below his collar as Jon ran anxious fingers through his hair.

"Actually, can't we, can't we wait until after the taping?" Jon breathed. He tightened his grip on Stephen's roots when he felt the introduction of teeth.

Stephen palmed Jon through his pants and smirked. "Now, why would you want to do something like that?" he whispered, looking him in the eye. "You know you always mess up your lines when you're distracted."

Jon instinctively pressed his hips into the heel of Stephen's hand and groaned. "You have a point."

"That I do." He leaned over and connected his hips with Jon's. "You're smiling," Stephen said, their faces inches apart.

"I am."

"It's nice to see you smile for once."

"I know."

Stephen grinned and kissed him on the lips for the first time that afternoon. Jon found himself jerking his head forward in an attempt to stay with Stephen as he parted much too soon.

 _What are you gonna do about it?,_ Stephen's eyes seemed to say. Jon stared at him dumbly before an idea popped into his mind. 

"Get on the couch."

"Sorry?" His entire demeanor shifted.

"Get on the couch," Jon said again, this time with confidence.

It was a give and take, Jon realized. Except Jon had always been the one taking. This- those four words- had shifted their dynamic, and Stephen was more than happy to oblige.

He obeyed and took small steps backward until the back of his leg hit the cushion. Stephen leaned into the couch and lifted his hips once Jon knelt down and undid the buckle of his pants without hesitation.

"You're too kind," Stephen mused.

Jon nodded and tossed Stephen's belt to the side. "I really am."

He took Stephen in his palm, felt his semi grow harder at the mere sensation of the gentle graze of skin. Jon smiled and wrapped his fingers around Stephen's cock, twisting and moving them up and down while Stephen started to relax, started to get comfortable. It only took a few minutes until he was fully erect, and Jon had no problem drawing him out.

He lowered his head so it was level to the base of Stephen's dick and breathed on the flesh experimentally, lips millimeters from skin. Close enough to give the illusion of touch but far enough to deny it.  
  
He grinned as Stephen shivered. A faint, "Jon..." trailed from his lips as his eyes fluttered behind rimless glasses.

Stephen wriggled around, tried to make up for the posture he'd lost while Jon spat in his hand and started working him up again.

He mumbled something incomprehensible and Jon made eye contact. He took Stephen in his throat as much as he could and didn't stop when he felt like it was burning. Stephen groaned. His legs fidgeted involuntarily and Jon decisively used his hands to pin them still. He took note of the way Stephen's breath started to rise and fall at a faster rate and how he stopped to whimper once he pulled his head back. He wiped his mouth and leaned back on his heels, took pleasure in the way Stephen squirmed around in response.

Stephen said nothing, just stared at Jon with a look of disgust and bliss and hate and love and JonStewarthowthehelldidyoulearntogetsomean. He gasped as Jon spat in his hand and started to work him up again, moaned as he used this thumb to run over his head, over and over and over and-

"Jon- I'm going t-"

"Not yet."

"But-"

"Not. Yet."

He said the command through grit teeth and Stephen's knuckles stayed still at the side of his thighs, clutched. He didn't dare touch himself when Jon started to go slower and slower- when his grip grew purposefully weaker and weaker.

_This is what you get for barging into my office._

Stephen let out a small whine when Jon let go of his dick for the fourth time. He was getting restless, Jon could sense it- anyone could. Stephen made it too obvious. He had a desperate look on his face, one that was normally reserved for over-the-top dramatic bits in front of the camera. This- this was the real deal. Jon stood up, leaned over towards Stephen, and pulled his glasses off.

"Can't see..."

"Don't need to see," Jon mumbled.

Stephen freed his pants from his ankles and threw it onto the floor. He pulled his shirt off and watched as Jon walked over to his desk.

"Over here. Don't need glasses to walk a few steps."

"What? On the- do you actually want to-" Stephen squinted at the blurred shape that was Jon's desk. His heart rose in his chest as he stood up.

Jon nodded and rummaged through a drawer for something slick. His fingers found a bottle of lube he'd forgotten about and he applied it generously.

"You can lean on the desk," Jon said, rubbing himself as Stephen approached him. "Don't touch yourself until I say you can," he added in a low voice.

Stephen groaned and bent over the desk in compliance. He felt a finger inside of him, and then two. Stephen breathed heavily, shoulders rising above his ears as his back arched in response. His cock throbbed, begging for release- had been for some time now, but Jon hadn't even started.

"This alright?"

He nodded.

Jon inserted another finger, and Stephen pushed back against it. "Fuck, Jon..." He breathed.

Jon took hold of his hip and pulled his fingers out. "Stephen? Did I hurt you? You alright?"

He nodded quickly, afraid that if he hesitated Jon would worry and insist on stopping. "No, yes, I- Keep going."

The room stood still for a moment, then Jon finally entered him, slowly at first. He followed through with short, shallow thrusts that were and weren't enough at the same time.  _Fuck._

Stephen could remember the first time they'd done this.  _"Just tell me to stop and I'll stop, okay?"_ Jon had said, and Stephen had laughed.

Jon's ears strained to hear beyond the door, and when he heard no footsteps, no distinct conversation, he let himself go a little bit, let himself get a little careless, a little louder.

"Jesus- Stephen- Feel so, feel so- Good- God- Fuck," Jon cursed through tight teeth each time he moved his hips. 

"You're gonna- gonna ruin your suit," Stephen managed to joke. 

"Way to have your priorities in order, Colbert," Jon said. His tone was biting.

_Colbert._

The way Jon said his last name came with an air of authority Stephen wasn't used to responding to. That was it. He writhed against the desk as his thoughts grew murky. 

"Please please Jon. Pleasepleasepleaseplease-" a string of unintelligible words ran from Stephen's mouth as he tried and failed to not think about his own aching cock. " _Please_ -"

Jon took note of the way Stephen begged- never heard that before- and began thrusting harder. When Stephen ran out of words to babble, he brought his arm around Stephen's torso and grazed his fingertips along the length of his dick. "Go ahead," Jon whispered against his good ear, pushing into him hard for the last time.

Stephen came with a shudder, hips bucking towards where Jon's hand should've been, but found he was no longer there. Stephen's breath hitched as his orgasm leaked out of him slowly, slowly. He clenched his fists and sighed heavy breaths against the wood of Jon's desk. His mind began to clear.

Stephen turned around so they were facing each other. He kissed Jon, caught him off-guard, breathed against his ear as Jon moved with him. He ran his fingers through his hair and traced the welt on Jon's neck. He bit his bottom lip- hard enough to elicit pain, gentle enough to not leave a mark visible to the cameras.  _Revenge._

Jon sighed once Stephen pulled away and became aware of the sticky mess on his desk. "That was, that was-"

"Different," Stephen said once he caught his breath. He pulled away and met Jon with a look that was all wonder. "I liked the whole 'with confidence' thing you were pulling off," he mused. The over-confident look that worked much better on Stephen than it did on Jon was back on his face again.

Jon groaned, suddenly embarrassed. "You know I try my best." He looked Stephen over. "Taping's gonna start soon," he said. He turned around and leaned over to pick up his belt for him. "You should get cleaned up."

Stephen pulled his shirt back on and grabbed the belt from Jon's outstretched hand. "You know, I still want to talk about... this," he said in a quiet tone, unsure of what gesture would accurately refer to _having sex_ _in your office_ every _other week._

Jon smoothed his hair back into place and shrugged. He rubbed the back of his neck and forced himself to meet Stephen's gaze. "Come to my place tonight and we can, uh, do what you want."

"Jon-"

"No, I'm serious. Actually serious. We can talk. Like adults."

A moment of silence passed between them as Stephen contemplated what he'd just said.

Stephen pulled the door open and stood in its frame. He looked down at his feet. "I think that's something we should do."

"Yeah. I think- I think it is. I think it is. Uh, see you downstairs."

And he left. Stephen crept out of the room the same way he'd done every single time before. 

Jon hated the thought of having to talk about them- about  _this_ \- whatever the fuck it was they were doing. But he also hated watching Stephen leave. He hated avoiding him after meetings, hated the fact that he'd started to hate himself. Tonight. Tonight they would set things straight.

He let go of the breath he didn't realize he was holding and stared at the closed door, imagined Stephen's stark figure leaning against its frame. He was relieved that Stephen had been the one to start the conversation. Jon knew he never would've done it himself.

He fell back into his chair and eyed the scripts that sat in piles, all unread. He threw them an accusing look and leaned back so he could stare at the ceiling instead. He closed his eyes and tried to forget about all the shit he'd have to deal with later.

 _Stephen Colbert_ , Jon thought as he fiddled with his tie, _w_ _hat have I done to deserve you._

 


End file.
